Part 109
Every hour felt heavier now that he knew.
The hashtags. The posts. The fan theories that painted him as a missing idol, hidden or hurt.
Each time Aura left the room, he checked the small phone she'd carelessly given him weeks ago — meant only for music and notes, not for connection.
But he'd found a way.
He'd hidden a messaging app inside the music folder, disguised under his old demo titles.
From there, he watched the world move — desperate, loud, alive.
They were looking for him.
That thought burned through him like sunlight after too long in the dark.
But every glimpse of hope came with the sound of footsteps outside the door — soft, measured, familiar.
Alex.
He'd learned to tell her moods by sound alone.
When she was calm, her steps were slow, almost floating.
When she was upset, her heel clicked harder against the floor.
Today, they were somewhere in between — quiet, uncertain.
He slipped the phone under the pillow again and forced his breathing to steady.
The door creaked open.
"You're awake," she said, smiling softly. "You should rest more."
He nodded. "Just couldn't sleep."
Aura tilted her head, eyes narrowing with gentle concern.
"You've been distracted lately."
His pulse jumped, but he managed a small laugh. "I'm fine, really. Just… thinking too much."
She moved closer, her hand brushing the blanket near his shoulder.
"You think too much about things that don't matter. The world out there isn't kind, Adrian. You know that better than anyone."
He met her gaze, keeping his tone careful.
"Maybe it's not kind, but… I still miss it sometimes."
Her expression softened, but her voice carried a faint tremor — the warning edge of a storm.
"You don't need to miss what hurt you."
And then, as if remembering herself, she smiled again.
"I'll make dinner soon. Something warm. Stay here, okay?"
She closed the door behind her, humming faintly as she walked away.
The sound faded, and the quiet returned — heavy and fragile.
Adrian sat there for a long time, staring at the dim phone light under the pillow.
His reflection stared back from the black screen — tired, thinner, but still there.
He whispered,
"You'll find me soon."
And for the first time in months, he believed it.